


Scavenger Hunt

by Arenoptara



Series: The Lady's Tears [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: I really am sorry, I'm so sorry, M/M, Scavenger Hunts, fluff turns to horror, i can't even begin to describe how sorry i am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:13:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1422676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arenoptara/pseuds/Arenoptara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were embarrassing, actually. So embarrassing. And they didn't even realize it because they were lost in their own little world. Only Armin and Mikasa could take it at all times. They were made of stronger stuff than they got credit for. There were just <em>so many sexual innuendos</em> flying around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scavenger Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> So a fun (not so fun) thing to do: when Marco shows up, play "Khan's Pets" by James Horner from Wrath of Khan. You will regret it. But you should do it. I did and I regretted it. But it was perfect.

From day one, Jean has loved mysteries, and solving mysteries. Eren knew that, and so the very first day they kissed, he left a clue for Jean on his pillow. But he had Mikasa write everything so Jean wouldn't know it was Eren. Every time Jean found the next clue, his heart beat a little faster because he thought, _Mikasa is going to be waiting at the end. Mikasa is waiting for me_. It took him a whole day to find the last clue, the clue that vaguely referred to the top of the wall of Trost, by the outer gate. Jean sneaked away at dinner, and he used his gear to fling himself to the top of the wall. A silhouette against the setting sun, thin, hair blowing gently in the breeze. This was the moment, wasn't it? The one Jean had been waiting for since he first saw Mikasa. His heart was probably pounding so loud her perfect ears could hear every beat. _Can she hear what she's doing to me?_

And how thrilled he was when the angel turned around and it was

“Fucking _JAEGER???!!??!?!?!_ ”

This is what Jean got for all his trouble. Personal time with the fucking douchiest of douchebags. Suicidal bastard. _I'm going to kill_ all _the Titans because I'm Eren Jaeger blah blah blah look how tough and amazing and determined and rad and sexy I am. I can turn into a Titan with a billion ab muscles and move fucking boulders and save your goddamn hometown hahaha I can't believe you really fell for this stupid prank_.

“I'm going to fucking kill you!” Jean said, teeth gritted, stomping over towards the little shit face-- _Wipe that little smile off your fucking face, Jaeger._

“Whoa, whoa, hold on,” Eren said, putting his hands up. They crashed into Jean's body, but Jean's inertia moved him back a foot or so. He still had that smile on his face, and his hands on Jean's chest, but Jean held on for some reason and waited for whatever _asshole reason_ Eren was going to spew now.

This didn't seem like the ripe atmosphere for a kiss, and yet--

“So,” Eren said slowly—hands still on Jean's chest-- “I admit, I tricked you into coming up here but you wouldn't have come if the clues had been in my handwriting, and also I just wanted to see your face—which was priceless.”

“You better have a good reason for bringing me all the way up here when I could be falling asleep in my bed,” Jean growled.

Eren's smile stretched into a grin. “Oh come on, Jean, I know you're a fucking romantic at heart and--”

“WHAT? What does ROMANCE have to do with this RIGHT NOW?”

Maybe the fact that Eren's hands were still on Jean's chest—and Eren could probably feel Jean's heart beating as fast as Mikasa moved in 3DMG—and there was a sunset and with the whole hands-on-Jean's-chest-thing, he hadn't tried to push Eren away—not to mention there was a sunset, so all the lighting was intense and _look at all the fucking angles in Jaeger's face I--_

Eren's hands curled around Jean's shirt and he stood up on his toes a little so they were at eye-level and _so close you can see how many colors there are in Jaeger's eyes. He's got his own fucking green rainbow—fuck shouldn't I be pushing him away or something; the little shit's right in my face—hasn't he ever heard of personal space?!_ He knew what was going to happen before it did but he did nothing to stop it, and suddenly Eren was kissing him and _goddammit when did he learn to kiss so good—what am I saying--_

Jean pulled away angrily. “What the FUCK was that?!” But before Eren could even register what had happened, Jean grabbed _him_ and smashed their faces together. _Fuck everything._

Some time later, probably thousands of years, they pulled apart because sometimes humans have to do this thing called breathing. Jean ran his fingers over Eren's shirt in vain to try and smooth out the wrinkles, while muttering nonsense under his breath.

“You were saying about where the romance was?” Eren said.

“That wasn't fucking romance,” Jean said, face turning red. “That was--” _The fucking little shithead piss face douche canoe_

The rainbow green eyes danced mischievously. “I thought so.”

After that, it became commonplace for Eren to leave mysterious clues lying around, just waiting for Jean to figure them out. And they all ended with the same thing—Jean and Eren pressed up against a wall, hands all over each other's bodies, mouths over each other's bodies, and nothing was ever _gentle_ until the end when they pressed their foreheads together, and Jean's fingers were knotted in Eren's hair and he muttered, “I fucking hate you.” And Eren said it right back.

Eventually that “I fucking hate you” “I hate you too” became so quiet and tender it was just them saying “I love you” though they'd never admit it because they were both fucking morons, and they thought they were so cleverly hiding it from everyone when they said it in public—everyone just rolled their eyes because the two were fooling absolutely _nobody_ , not even Commander Erwin and Captain Levi who didn't even see them together all that often.

And when Armin casually mentioned it one day their faces got red and they protested hotly that _Jaeger and I? Kirschtein and I? What the hell! I'd rather fuck a Titan! I'd rather fuck Pixis!_ and then Armin said, “You seem preoccupied with fucking.” And that just made them even angrier.

Afterward they got all _tangled_ in some bed sheets _somehow_ and they realized finally that everyone knew.

A few days after that, Jean got another clue for a new hunt. It ended up on top of the wall—not Trost anymore, but Stohess—and for the first time Eren gave Jean the softest kiss, cradling his face in his hands, and afterward he murmured into Jean's jawline “I fucking love you.”

Everything was perfect after that—and they had all this free time, because Commander Smith was raising money for a new expedition. Every time Eren and Jean saw each other after any kind of separation, they always touched the other in some small way—brush of a finger over the hand, a tap on the shoulder, a peck on the lips, a poke in the side, or a fake punch to the arm. Sometimes when they were assigned little tasks and they happened to see the other, they called each other stupid names or said things like “Go suck a horse's dick, Jaeger” and “Go fuck yourself, Kirschtein.”

They were embarrassing, actually. So embarrassing. And they didn't even realize it because they were lost in their own little world. Only Armin and Mikasa could take it at all times. They were made of stronger stuff than they got credit for. There were just _so many sexual innuendos_ flying around.

Rephrase: everything was perfect after that _until_ \--

Everyone was eating dinner together.

“Kirschtein I got a surprise for you tonight,” Eren said.

“What is it?”

“I told you it's a fucking surprise. I can't just _tell_ you.”

“Does it involve your dick?”

Collective groan. Sasha fell over, her face smashing into the table. Connie patted her back comfortingly.

“Fucking perv,” Eren protested. “And I'm not going to tell you! You have to _be surprised_. I have to go prepare, because _obviously_ it's going to be a scavenger hunt. For what you're going to get, you deserve to put some work into it.”

“So it _is_ your dick?”

“ _NO. SHUT UP YOU JACKASS._ ” His face was all red, but the rainbows in his eyes could have been on their own planet. Before he left he gave him a long nice kiss, and then Jean watched his ass all the way out.

“You two are a disgrace to the Survey Corps,” Mikasa said.

“A _fucking_ disgrace,” Armin said.

Connie started laughing uncontrollably.

Jean rolled his eyes and then stretched his arms away above his head. At the end, one arm fell down and slung casually around Armin's shoulders. “I can't dispute that.”

He walked back alone, wondering what the surprise could possibly be. Eren was a fairly predictable individual. All the hunts really ended the same way—with Eren's tongue in Jean's mouth and vice versa—so if that was the “surprise” Jean didn't really mind because honestly that sounded kind of nice right now. But Eren seemed more excited about it this time than all the times before, like he was actually putting effort into it—all the clues in his hunts had been the easiest pieces of shit Jean had ever laid eyes on—so Jean couldn't help but feel his heartbeat quicken like the first time Eren had laid out a hunt for him.

The first clue was on the pillow—not in his handwriting. He was really trying to make this different than all the others ones, wasn't he? Maybe hearkening back to the original hunt. The clue was easy enough—go to this tavern. And the bartender had the next clue. The farther in Jean got, the more he realized, Eren really _was_ putting more effort into this hunt because some of the clues actually made Jean think. They were still fairly easy, but it was nice to get the juices flowing.

The last clue he found back in his room, under the mattress: Where Stohess kisses Rose/the lady's tears.”

“What the fuck?” Jean mumbled to himself. That meant he had to go to the outer gate. He didn't have his maneuvering gear, but he bribed the guard to open the gate just to let him out—the guy was drunk and more than happy to oblige, and _look at the people's tax dollars at work!_

By this time the sun had set, but Jean had brought along a lantern. He walked out a few hundred yards. “The lady's tears?” Well there weren't any crying ladies but—a suspicious amount of rose petals littered across the ground. “Ha. You clever little shit. Not your usual dumbass clues.” He followed the rose petals for a time, until they diverged from the path off into the darkness. Taking a deep breath, he looked back at the Stohess wall, and then pressed onward off the path.

He saw his destination after about five minutes or so—a little cottage surrounded by some trees. There was a light on in the window. Jean quickened his pace, and in no time at all he was right at the front door. He knocked. No one answered. He tested the knob—it was open. So he walked in.

“Eren?”

The rose petals continued on over the wood floor, to the staircase leading to the cellar.

“Leave it to you to choose the fucking creepiest place,” he called out.

He hovered over the top of the staircase and lifted his lantern. There was light gleaming out from under the cellar door. More rose petals littered the stairs. _How the hell did he find all these roses. Probably used up the entire fucking population._

Halfway down the stairs he froze.

Petals weren't the only thing covering the stairs. See it had been hard to see at first, because the petals were red and there were so many, but some of the wood was stained red. Looking even closer, he could see the same red stain on the walls on either side of the staircase. No one in the Survey Corps could mistake that stain. No one. Suddenly Jean's heart started beating faster, but not in anticipation.

He slowly made his way down some more, wishing he had brought his swords, but hoping that this was all some stupid dirty trick to make Jean worry and get another _priceless_ face. _God I hope so_ , he thought with the noisiest swallow in the entire fucking universe.

The door was unlocked at the bottom too. Jean gently turned the knob and nudged it open—it swung without much effort on his part.

The red was more intense now, just covering the ground like carpeting—and there were roses scattered _everywhere_. Someone had lit candles, and they flickered around the room. It made the room so small, so closed in, like there wasn't any air.

Jean took a step forward and stepped on something. A whole shiver ran through his body. He slowly turned his eyes downward and lifted his foot back.

When you get to know someone so intimately, right off the bat you can recognize something of theirs. Their laugh from across the room, across a plaza. The shape of their lips. How they stand when you see them from the back. Their long slender fingers, probably one of the things Jean knew most intimately when it came to Jaeger's. The thing is, there's a certain way these things should be, like the laugh should come from happiness, and the lips should be able to form a smile, and those fingers, those hands should be able to move, but they can't when they're like this--

When it's just hands. Disconnected from the body—torn from the body. The fingers curled into some freakish claw, and you can see the bones of the wrist, and you can see all the muscles in there, so red and warm and _strong_.

Eren Jaeger's hands.

Jean threw a hand over his mouth to stop himself from throwing up—but it could all still be an elaborate trick _right? Right Eren. You're just a sick motherfucker. That's all._

He followed the blood trail into the first aisle of wine bottle holders and he was greeted by the next surprise. Arms, lost in their search to find their missing ends. The elbow was bent in a way it shouldn't have been able to bend.

It was probably wise to turn around, but Jean had to find _him_ because—because--

Round the end into the next aisle, and there were the feet—Jean could remember Eren sticking them in his face all the time because the fucking idiot always had this stinking feet problem and he wielded it like this fierce weapon every chance he could—and down a bit farther were the legs, crossed like a gentleman, crossed like Eren never crossed them—Jean was the one who crossed his legs all the time.

Jean went past, white as a ghost, heart thundering so powerfully it _hurt_. But it wasn't as painful as the next aisle because there was the torso—the one with the billion ab muscles, though they were covered by torn bloody clothes—and just beyond—just beyond.

He fell to his knees—fresh blood, still seeping from the head, soaked into his knees. Jean set the lantern down, and carefully, he picked the head up in his hands and lifted it so they were eye level. Not that Eren could see anything. Those eyes were just plain green now. They weren't mischievous.

Hot moisture pooled up in the corners of his eyes—he tried to keep it there, to stop it from flowing over because _goddammit, Jaeger is the one who cries, not me! Jaeger—Eren_. It's hard to do things when there's no true will. The tears came, and they came fast and hard. Jean pressed his forehead against Eren's.

“I fucking hate you, Jaeger. What kind of fucking surprise is this. What . . . why . . . you . . .”

Someone spoke, and for two insane seconds, Jean thought it was Eren. THIS WAS A JOKE THE WHOLE TIME HOW DID THAT MOTHERFUCKER—but the voice was too gentle. A voice Jean knew very well. The only problem was it belonged to a dead man.

“His surprise wasn't all that exciting. So I spiced it up a bit. You understand what he's feeling right now, Jean? After all, you know how the weak feel.”

A shadow moved in front of him, and it crouched down, a smile on its half-lit face. That face Jean could know anywhere. No one had freckles like that. But it was Jean's mind playing tricks— _Marco, Marco why are you wearing an eye patch, how are you still alive, how is this even happening._

Marco took Eren's head and tugged it away from Jean and set it aside. “Eren was more shocked to see me than you are, Jean. I'm a little disappointed. After that whole scene with the nurse, I thought you cared a little more.”

Jean opened his mouth but no words came out.

Marco reached out a bloody hand and tenderly touched Jean's cheek. “I thought you cared a little more. Was I wrong?”

_Marco—Eren—I_

“I'm sorry, I'll give you a few moments. Eren was speechless too. Especially after I cut his head off. I tried to be gentle and quick about it, you know. I hope he didn't mind too much.” Marco's thumb ran over Jean's cheek in circles, like he was trying to soothe him. “I'll make sure to talk to you more. Communication is important in a relationship.”

“A . . . relationship?”

Marco smiled, his eye glowing happily. “What you and Eren have—or had. I know it must be hard, going through your first break up. But I know you'll get through it, Jean.” His hand slid down Jean's jawline, and his neck, resting as a fist against his chest. “I'm here for you.”

Jean's hand fluttered through the air for a second before finally grabbing Marco's wrist and pushing his fist away. “No.”

“No?” Marco winced. “That really hurts Jean. It really does. After all I've done for you.” He scooted closer, still crouching. “After all I have done for you.” He stared into Jean's eyes. “I never did it for anyone else. Just you. And now you want to toss me away? Give up on me?” The eye darkened. “Haven't you already done that once?”

Jean's eyes widened. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.

“I'm sorry too. No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Shoving this on you so soon. So fast.” He sunk down onto his knees and came forward, arms wrapping around Jean's neck. “What can I do to make it better? Will this . . . will this help?” He tipped forward, his lips touching Jean's.

As he kissed Jean, Jean just stared at nothing. After a second or two, his hand reached down to his belt, to the dagger he always carried with him. Clumsily, he took it out of its sheathe. But he wasn't ready now, his hand was shaking too much.

_Distract . . . distract him. Marco--_

Jean kissed him back, and that got Marco excited, more passionate. His fingers curled around the knife tightly. With every passing second, his confidence increased. Just a little more and Marco would be so distracted, so focused, he wouldn't be able to stop Jean.

 _I'm sorry, Marco_.

He counted down from ten, and then struck—but Marco grabbed his hand and quickly deflected it, turning it around and plunging it right into Jean's gut. Jean let out a sharp breath against Marco's lips.

“Jean, Jean, Jean,” Marco said painfully, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow. “Why did you do that?” He twisted the knife—it scraped against Jean's insides. And then it slid out and no—back in again, up under his rib cage. Jean fell forward into Marco, his chin on his shoulder.

_Isn't this supposed to hurt? Eren did it hurt for you?_

Marco took his chin so he could look at him. “Why did you do that, Jean? That's not how this was supposed to go. I did this all for you. This party. Did you see all the roses? I got them all--” Jean's eye started to close, so Marco shook his head vigorously and they opened wide again – “I got them all for you. For you. Because I love you Jean. I love you.”

Jean reached up a hand to clutch Marco's shoulder. “Marco--”

“What? What is it?” Marco breathed, searching Jean's eyes frantically. “What is it, Jean?”

From day one, Jean has loved mysteries, and solving mysteries. Eren knew that, and so the very first day they kissed, he left a clue for Jean on his pillow. And he'd left 37 on Jean's pillow since. Today he promised Jean a surprise. But Jean didn't want the damn surprise. And he didn't want to solve the mystery right in front of him, talking to him, kissing him. There was only one fucking thing he wanted right now. It was a rainbow—and not just some boring-ass rainbow with blue and green and yellow and orange and shit. This one was made of different shades of green, all the shades of green in the universe, including Douchebag Eren Jaeger green-- _especially_ Douchebag Eren Jaeger green. 

Jean's fingers curled into the fabric tighter, his breath coming out in gasps. It was easier to think than speak. Easier when everything else was _just so difficult_. But that rainbow was worth it, and the stupid face it resided in, and the stupid body it was connected to, all those terrible terrible innuendos that made everyone cringe, and that's why they were so beautiful. He pulled himself upright—the knife didn't move so nicely with him; it tore into his body some more, until the tip hit that one special organ. Something called a heart or whatever, something Eren Jaeger had far too much of.

_Eren--Eren I lo--_


End file.
